Have you ever been so angry at someone you wanna crush your own skull into a million tiny pieces. Ironically, you're not angry at yourself, you can't even tell who exactly you're angry at yet for some reason you find you're the one who should suffer. Or maybe that's just what grief is. It's hating everyone else so much that you hate yourself even more. In part, I'm even angry at her, partially for dying, partially for so many other pieces of this puzzle I can't even think up. I think of all the things clustering in my head, the one that's sticking most, the question I think I'd die to have answered, what was she thinking then? Her mother told me the autopsy said she died of an overdose. Why would she ever do a thing like that? Why was she acting like an idiot? I remember, I used to adore how dumb she was, "dumb people make for the best comedy" I'd say every time she did something I thought of as dumb. Which happen to be all our best memories. She was so much funnier to be around with a lack of intellect. We completed each other. Logic and insanity. She'd think up all the fun and I'd talk her out of any suicide missions. God, that description. Isn't it ironic? If only I could've talked her out of this one.
